


Sur le fil

by SundayZenith



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, ask to tag, bonding over dead/missing parents, this is basically my way of touching upon my headcanons over Webby's family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundayZenith/pseuds/SundayZenith
Summary: Webby and Dewey talk about Father's Day, Mother's Day, family, and grieving, among other things.





	Sur le fil

**Author's Note:**

> It feels good to be writing again.   
> The title is French, meaning something like "Just in the nick of time." It's not very fitting, really. I only went with it because it was the title of on of the songs I was listening to as I wrote this. "Sur Le Fil" by Yann Tiersen, for the curious

There’s someone in her room- she can tell, even without her night vision goggles. The door is slightly cracked, a faint glow too soft to be from a light bulb spilling from within, and when she leans her head against the wall, she can just barely make out the sound of breathing.

 

So she doubles back, finds the nearest air vent and crawls in, pulling on her goggles as she goes. 

 

Looking out of the vent into her room, she sees it isn’t a Beagle Boy, ghost, vampire, or anything exciting and dangerous. It’s just Dewey, sitting cross legged on the floor holding Selene’s Sphere.

 

“Dewey?”

 

“Webby?” He jumped slightly, turning to face her as she crawls out of the vent.

 

“Where’ve you been all day?” he asks.

 

The Sphere. Webby may not yet have a grasp on the emotions of others- she would be the first to tell you that. Actually, no, she wouldn’t even need to tell anyone, it became pretty obvious to nearly every other kid she’s met almost right away- but she had a basic understanding of body language, and the way Dewey had been half-curled around the Sphere told her  _ she _ didn’t need to bother asking why he was in her room.

 

“I was at my parents’ grave,” she says in what she hopes is a soothing tone- anything Della Duck related was sensitive territory for Dewey, she was coming to realize, so it was safe to assume he was probably a little distressed by something. “It’s Father’s Day, after all. And it’s not even noon.”

 

She became worried she had done the wrong thing, again, by the way Dewey’s brow furrowed.

 

“Your parents are…,” he hesitated, “like, dead?”

 

“Uh, yeah, why do you think I live here at McDuck Manor and not with them?” She can’t help but snort- at least she’s not the only oblivious one. “My family isn’t anything like yours- my parents were just  _ normal. _ ...Wow, uh…” That last part came out surprisingly bitter, even to her.

 

Dewey blinked at her and motioned to the floor beside him. “That... sounded kinda heavy. Is there anything you, like, need to unpack?”

 

“Uh, no…? I already live here, like I said.”

 

“I meant metaphorically.”

 

“Oh, right,” she laughed at herself to hide her embarrassment. Settling beside him, her eyes settled on her McDuck Family wall- adventures, brave heroes, backstabbers, and mysteries embodied all connected by a thread.

 

“They… they were just, you know, _ normal _ ,” she bagan.

 

“How could anyone raised by Mrs. Beakley be normal?” Dewey cut in, before hastily adding, “Sorry.”

 

“Eh,” she shrugged- a habit she had picked up fro Louie. “My Grannie didn’t work for Mr. McDuck full time back then, and my Granddad was kinda my mom’s full time caregiver. And… well, my parents and Granddad were kinda murdered by someone from my Grannie’s past?”

 

“Seriously?!”

 

“Yeah… Grannie, well, you know how blunt she can be.”

 

Dewey snorted. “Blunt is an understatement. Last week she told Uncle Donald his blood pressure might not be so high if he didn’t drink so much coffee.”

 

“Yeah, Grannie doesn’t like to talk about what happened to my parents.”

 

After a moment of silence, Dewey winced.

 

“All I really know is they’re dead, and after the funeral my Grannie disappeared for like a week before moving me into the manor and bagan working full time.”

 

“...So that’s why she basically raised you to be an assassin/ninja?”

 

“I guess. I mean, that must be  _ part  _ of it, since my mom was  _ normal _ .”

 

“Hey, Webby? Why do you keep saying ‘normal’ like its a bad thi-?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Uh… you kinda are?”

 

“No, I mean…” She focused on the picture of the triplets- her first real friends. “I’m not normal, and that’s what’s bad.”

 

“It’s not,” Dewey said a little too quickly, even for her. “It’s really not, Webby,” he said slower, and she felt more than saw him move towards her. “I mean, yeah sure, you’re _ a lot  _ sometimes, and sometimes it feels like talking to, like, someone whose language you don’t speak and culture you know nothing about-”

 

“So the feeling goes both ways? That’s a relief.”

 

“-But, like, you’re a super big help and you know so many things we don’t, and we’d probably be dead a thousand times over since without you to bail us out of trouble.”

 

She smiled at him before turning back to the wall. “...Sometimes I wish I had been raised like my mom, you know?”

 

“Uh, yeah, yes, I do, Webby. Did you see Uncle Donald take out Dewey, Jr? Or those Beagle Boys that kidnapped up the first time? Or, heck,” He pointed to the wall. “This is my family, but I know zilch on them. Whatever happened to… just… _ I’m _ not like  _ you, _ and sometimes it seems like I'll never be like my mom either.”

 

“That might be a good thing, if she was actually e-”

 

“ _ A god told us she wasn’t evil, Webby _ .”

 

“She just told us she was kind,” Webby muttered- there was no knowing who Della Duck was really, not yet. She could have been  _ anything, _ after all, and as her Grannie taught her, it was best to be prepared for  _ anything _ \- but dropped it anyway.

 

“...Do you remember them?” Dewey asked, after a few more moments of silence.

 

“Not really. I mean, I’ve got videos of them, and pictures, and sometimes some perfumes and flowers smell familiar, and on holidays like today we go visit their grave, and Grannie tells me about them.”

 

“...Sometimes I wish I at least had a grave to visit.”

 

“Why?” She was genuinely curious. “If there’s no body, theres a chance she’s still out there.” 

 

“I just hate it, you know? Not knowing, and Uncle Donald- he doesn’t talk about her, like, at all! If she were actually- you know- then I’d at least know were she was buried.”

 

“How would you feel if you lost Huey? Or Louie?”

 

“I-” Dewey buried his head in his knees. “I get it, okay? I don’t want to think about that happening, and I get why Uncle Donald doesn’t want to think about how it happened, but  _ this isn’t fair _ .

 

“...Days like this aren’t fair.”

 

“I, uh, don’t follow,” Webby said. She hesitantly put an arm around his shoulders, like she had seen the triplets do for each other so many time. “It’s _ Father’s _ Day.”

 

“We didn’t even know about Mother’s and Father’s Day until kindergarten, when the teacher explained them to us. We were making Mother’s Day cards, and Huey asked about what we should do if don’t have one- which, like, a third of the class didn’t. If he didn’t ask, the Poodle girl with two dads would’ve. The teacher told us all about how she didn’t have a father growing up- which, wow, imagine having to tell five year olds that every year- and how she would spend Father’s Day with her mom and later her stepdad.

 

“So Huey insisted on making this dumb card for Uncle Donald, and… ugh, his  _ face _ . Louis _ said _ it would be a bad idea, and what do ya know? Uncle Donald was crying and we were crying and  _ ugh _ ! Uncle Donald, still hung the card on fridge, but it still sucked, you know? Every Mother’s Day Uncle Donald gets sad and pretends he isn’t, and we still don’t know if we should celebrate today, and, like- It’s like-”

 

“You can’t escape it?” Webby asked

 

“Yeah. That’s kinda why I’m hiding here-  _ not _ hiding, Dewford Deuteronomy Duck  _ does not _ hide, not from his brothers- though Louie, of all people, wanted to do something for Uncle Donald this year- which, yeah, okay, Uncle Donald had been kinda stressed out, and even if he’s an overprotective, emotionally unstable wet blanket, he’s basically our dad, and he a good dad- anyway, Louie told us and Huey immediately jumped on the chance to go all out since we’re rich and he’s  _ Huey _ \- actually, the best gift I could give Uncle Donald would be a heads up.” 

 

Webby laughed, genuinely laughed- she had known Huey Duck long enough to know what Dewey meant.

 

Dewey snorted at his own joke before looking down at the Sphere, his brow furrowing again.

 

“Actually…,” he ran two fingers over the Sphere, rewinding the memory within- Webby was still amazed she, at least, knew what  _ The _ Mysterious Della Duck looked like when she laughed. “...Webby? Can I ask you one more thing?” There was something halting about his tone that made her hesitate.

 

“Sure…?” 

 

“Knowing about your parents, having all those pictures and stuff… It made it easier, right? For your grandma to talk about them? And for you to, I dunno, deal with it?”

 

“Maybe? I mean, I guess I’ve always been… different? Like, even if I had the same upbringing as my mom, I might still ‘deal with it’ the same way.” Her Grannie had told her in the past that she was likely on the Autism Spectrum, but was reluctant to have her diagnosed for fear of possible stigma. “As for Grannie… sometimes she’ll show me a picture and tell me about it, but usually she just tells me about them if I ask.”

 

“But, like, having it…?” Dewey sighed, hugging the Sphere. “I want to tell them- Uncle Donald, Scrooge, my brothers, but…”

 

He was cut off by a distant, familiar half wordless scream/half quack, followed by a “sorry Uncle Dona-aa _ aahhhhhh! _ ” and a “ _ Curse me kilt what did ye get into!? _ ”

 

Webby jumped up- she  _ couldn’t _ miss this. She saw Dewey roll the Sphere under her desk before grabbing his wrist. Dewey stood his ground, and she looked over her shoulder in confusing. 

 

“I’ll show them the Sphere eventually, I promise. I just…  _ I _ need this, for a little bit longer.”

 

Webby paused, tempted to ask why he felt the need to promise to her, but decided against it.

 

Instead, she nodded her head, said “come on,” and dragged him after her.


End file.
